


Flying

by justalittlegreen



Series: Sunshine and Filth [40]
Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: BJ is a kinky motherfucker, But Sweet, Childcare, Claiming, Competence Kink, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Marks, Multi, Smut, bottom hawkeye, i had to give them a break SOMETIME, kinkier than usual, the middle years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:28:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26021197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justalittlegreen/pseuds/justalittlegreen
Summary: BJ gives a talk at a conference and Hawkeye comes home covered in the fun kind of bruises to tell Peggy about it.
Relationships: B. J. Hunnicutt/Peg Hunnicutt/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, Peg Hunnicutt/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce
Series: Sunshine and Filth [40]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1173266
Kudos: 28





	Flying

Hawkeye comes home from the conference two days before BJ. His entrance is that of the prodigal hero; the kids make a beeline for him, clamoring for attention. He lifts Benjamin up and settles him on his hip while Erin hugs his leg like she's going to haul it off without the rest of him. Peg leans in for a peck, and as she does, Hawk winces and sets the baby down. 

"Got a little stiff and sore this weekend," he explains casually, as if she might actually believe he's talking about the plane seats or the hotel bed. She rolls her eyes affectionately, grabs his suitcase as he gets down on the floor with the children, groaning as his knees reach the carpet. 

She takes stock of him as best she can while they move through the evening - the way he sits almost gingerly, how he finds a way to crouch by the tub as they wash the kids, rather than kneeling. Clearly, he and BJ got up to something in the blessed anonymity of the conference hotel. Still, he holds it together through dinner and the bedtime routine, looking almost comfortable on the edge of Erin's bed as he finishes the final pages of Goodnight Moon.

After the kids are in bed, she hears him head for the bathroom, stripping out of his travel clothes. She slips in past the unlocked door. He's already in the shower, steam pouring out over her. Hawkeye likes a good rolling boil. 

"Boo," she says lightly, peeking around the curtain. Hawk jumps just a little bit. But not as much as Peggy.

His hips and ass are _covered_ in bruises.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you that curiosity killed the cat?" Hawkeye sputters indignantly. 

"Didn't _yours_ ever tell you that your smart mouth was going to get you in trouble someday?" she answers coolly. "And what trouble _you've_ got into, mister. What on earth happened in Seattle?"

Hawk steps under the spray and scrubs at hair to buy himself a minute. Peg doesn't move, making a catalog of every mark on him and what might've caused it. Those look like finger marks on his hips. The bigger ones in the softer spots could be handprints, but could be something else. Where would they have ever found a paddle? 

There's scratch marks on his back, too.

Finally, Hawk shuts off the water. Peg hands him a towel and walks out without a word. She changes into a nightgown, summery and light, and climbs into bed with a book. He comes in a few minutes later, and, bruises aside, he looks so innocent like this. Damp and clean with a towel wrapped low on his slight hips. His hair rakish and dripping. 

He starts for his dresser, but she says, "Hawkeye? Why bother? Lock the door and come to bed."

"Oh?" he says, an impish grin spreading across his face as he does what she asks. "You want a crack at me, too?"

"Come here," she says, ignoring the bait. She pulls the covers aside, and he crawls in, sprawling belly-down beside her. She traces a light hand over the damage, fingertips tracing the path of welts on his skin. "How did you end up with these?" she murmurs.

He shudders, at her touch, or at the memory, she's not sure which. When he speaks, his voice is low, husky, quiet. "He was so good, Peg. I watched him speak in front of five, six hundred peo-ple. He was _brilliant._ Made me remember how hard I fell for him."

"Mhmm," she says, stretching out next to him, still running her fingers over the marks. 

"He was surrounded by a crowd after the talk. I couldn't wait to get near him. I was so proud. So - in awe. And then he looked up at me, and he smiled right at me from the middle of that mess of people, and..." he trails off. Turns to look at her. Smiles sheepishly. 

"He always gets...exuberant...when he's flying high like that," she finishes. "So he got back to you eventually?" Hawk nods. 

"I was waiting in our room. I was _aching_ for him, Peg, I couldn't remember the last time I'd been so aroused. Nearly wasted myself before he got there. But I made it. And then he came in, and he threw me against the damn wall."

Peg chuckles. "You loved it."

"Damn right I did!"

Peg can just picture it - Hawkeye's long legs wrapped around BJ's hips, BJ digging his nails into Hawk's back, the two of them rutting shamelessly against the wall, breathless and swearing. The thought sends flickers of heat up her belly.

"The rest...came later," he continues. "He slapped me, just once, to get me moving over to the bed, and ...it was one _those_ nights."

Peg's well familiar with _those_ nights. She's instigated a few of them herself, with a well-timed smack that sets Hawkeye off unexpectedly. She's seen the way he sinks into it, demands more and more, soaking up whatever sensation he can get. Pain just happens to cut through the haze more readily than kissing. She's spanked him until her hand went numb before. 

"What'd he use?" she asks, petting the massive purple-gray bruise. Hawk grins. "First his hand. Then the Gideon Bible."

Peg cracks up. "That's perverted." Hawk flutters his lashes at her. "We meet on Tuesdays if you'd like to join us," he quips.

Hawkeye nuzzles his head against the pillow, yawning, delighted with the way the story's turned out. Peg's cackles ease to chuckling after a long minute. "You knuckleheads," she says fondly, leaning over to kiss his temple. She lays her head close to his, so close her lips practically brush his ear. "You came home marked."

The abrupt tone shift doesn't seem to faze him. She watches the words ripple through him, his hips lifting slightly, then down into the sheets. 

"Came home sore and striped for the world to know," she continues, pressing the heel of her hand against his bruised backside. "Came home with his fingerprints on you."

He moans into the pillow, from the words or her hand, she can't tell. "And not a square inch of skin left for me to leave my mark, hmm?" she says. "Who's going to know you're mine, too, if you're so full of his handiwork? He's not the only one you kneel for, Hawkeye Pierce."

He moans again, this time deeper, his stomach heaving against the bed as he squirms against her touch. "Peg," he breathes. "Oh, _Peggy._ "

"You want something from me, too? A little signature for the rest of the world to read?" He nods twice, three, four times. She frowns. "I don't like coloring over someone else's lines," she tells him. "Roll over."

He does, face twisting as he lands on the bruises. She busies herself getting up and grabbing what she needs while he adjusts himself against the bed, trying to take some of the weight off the most bruised bits of him.

"Don't worry, darling, I'm not going to hurt you," she says as she climbs back into bed with a hand behind her back. "I think you've had enough of that for now. Lie still, now. Close your eyes."

He does what she asks - she knows how hard it is for him, how long it took him to get here, how, for the first year, he couldn't bring himself to let her touch him unreciprocated. His belly clenches as he feels something drag across his muscles. Not a finger. Not a tongue.

"Peg?" he says hesitantly. It doesn't hurt; tickles a little, maybe. He's just confused.

"One minute," she says. "There. Now you can open your eyes."

He does, leaning up on his elbows to see what she's done, and as soon as he sees it, he gasps, cock throbbing, flushing from his hairline halfway down his chest. 

In sharp red lipstick, she's scrawled in elegant script, " _mine_ "

By the time they're finished, it's a red smear on both of them, and Hawkeye has two new bruises, dangerously high on his collar. He falls asleep tucked into her, sated and spent. Neither of them can wait until BJ gets home. By then, the prettiest of the bruises will have begun to fade, and they'll have to remind Hawkeye all over again. 

This time, she thinks, maybe she'll let Hawkeye leave his mark. On her.


End file.
